A Man and His Beard

Since this week was husband’s birthday, I want to brag about him. 

Ok, mainly his beard for right now. 

Let’s just take a quick moment and talk about how much I love husband’s beard.  I mean, seriously, how can you not with a smile like this? 

It’s a big part of our life - I’m not going to lie.

This one time, in 2009, when we were dating, I told him I wanted him to keep growing it out.  So he didn’t trim it.  My sister said he looked like a homeless man but he still didn’t trim it because I told him not to.   Fortunately, he doesn’t keep it that long anymore.  I think I let my emotions get ahead of me.  I finally let him trim it again.

This one time, in 2010, when the Giants went to the World Series (and won!) and their star closer had a black-dyed beard, husband dyed his black and trimmed it just like Brian Wilson’s.  He did this because he loves me, not because he’s a baseball fanatic.  He even uses his beard to show me how much he loves me. 

Twins?  I think so. 

This one time, in 2011, when we got married,  he had a perfectly trimmed beard and he looked goooooood.

Hey there GQ. 

This one time, in 2012, when I went to Europe with my mom and sisters, he shaved it (in phases like they always do).  And I was sad.  Fortunately for me, it had grown back by the time I came home.

This one time, in 2013, when we were living a standard ordinary life, his beard was perfect.  It still is.  I love it.

And I don’t want him to shave it ever. Even when it's grey.  Ok, maybe he can shave it then.  Wait, no.  I'll still want it.

I love my bearded man.